Forgotten Fears
by Mackley
Summary: In the face of war, old fears are forgotten and new fears are forged. One Shot, reviews welcome and appreciated. A look into how unfrightening, and sometimes meaningless old fears can become.


Hermione apparated into Headquarters and collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table.

She'd been tracking Bellatrix Lestrange for three weeks before she was close enough

to make it worthwhile. When Fred, George and Ron arrived they sent her to bed,

assuring her they wouldn't be alone, that Kingsley and Mad-Eye were on their way.

Exhausted and feeling much older than her eighteen years, Hermione scanned the

room. Much too tired to sleep, she noticed a letter on the sideboard. Crossing the

room, she picked it up. It was addressed to her, so she opened it, noticing as she did so

that it was from Hogwarts.

Though there was now a lot fewer pupils, Hogwarts was still open and Hermione

spent every opportunity she got at the school. She was determined to complete her

seventh year and also helped teach defence when she could. As usual no one could be

found to take up the Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching post.

Hermione pulled the folded piece of parchment from the envelope and glanced at the

date.

_3rd April 1997_

The letter had probably been lying here a while, Hermione thought, though she didn't

know the exact date.

_Dear Miss Granger_, she read,

_I regret to inform you of the reason you have received this letter. It has come to the _

_attention of various members of staff that, judging by your recent test marks and _

_averaging grades, it is unlikely that you will pass your N.E.W.T's without serious _

_application. Aware as I am of your involvement with other things, I suggest you drop _

_your studies now, to save disappointment come this May._

_I hasten to add, that should you drop out of these exams, or fail any of them, you will _

_be welcome to repeat the year, should you wish to._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall _

_Headmistress_

Hermione stared fixatedly at the letter, as if hoping the words would change, that it'd

be a flyer for some potioneers conference, or a letter from her parents. When the

words stayed exactly as they were, Hermione found what little strength she had left

and apparated to her bedroom. She pulled a large potions volume off a shelf, curled

up under the covers of her bed, and started to read herself to sleep.

x x x x x x x x x x x

Deep in the Jungles of Indonesia, Ron didn't need to wonder why Bellatrix was

hiding here. The hundreds of overhanging branches and plentiful undergrowth made

moving silently very a near impossible task. Despite this Ron caught neither sight nor

sound of Kingsley Shacklebolt, who he knew to be somewhere to his left, or Mad-Eye

Moody, to the right. George, who had lost a lot of blood after a vicious attack from an

unknown magical plant, had been apparated to help by Fred.

Ron crept silently; trying to separate the natural sounds from the foreign ones in his

mind, when he was certain he caught a glimpse of something black and shiny. Ron

threw himself through the next thicket of bushes, releasing a patronus at the same

time. As the silver Jack Russell shot off to alert the others, Ron looked up, horrified,

to a massive pair of black glittering pincers.

Acromantula.

With a swish of a cloak Harry appeared at Ron's side. Ron's face was set and his

wand raised.

"You go. Find Bellatrix. I'm fine."

"Ron…"

"Go! I'm fine."

Harry turned and stealthily ran off into the trees.

x x x x x x x x x x x

Harry reached a small clearing, and pulled out a map from his pocket. He and Remus

had worked months on the marauder-style world map. Some wizarding places may be

unplottable, but people weren't. A tiny black skull, labelled Bellatrix Black Lestrange,

was stationary in the North Sea. Harry knew she was, ironically, back where she

belonged – Azkaban. There was a quiet sound, which could have been but a bird

taking off from a branch, and Harry was gone.

With the same sound, not audible over the noise of the sea, Harry arrived on a small

cold isolated island. The cold that crept inside him was not, however, from the hard

wind off the sea, but from the creatures inside the black outlined building before him.

Harry silently scaled the rocks keeping him from the prison and upon reaching the

door, ripped from its hinges, he raised his wand and quietly slipped inside.

Though he couldn't see them yet, Harry could feel the dementors pull. Relaxing his

tense body but keeping his mind alert, Harry emptied not only his mind but almost his

entire being of emotion, with a branch of occlumency that Hermione had just about

invented. Avoiding using his patronus, knowing it would expose him, Harry crept

along a dark celled corridor and turned a corner. He was met by a furious display of

light.

The large crowd of dementors around the two warriors couldn't block out the sparks

of every colour flying from two wands.

"How is Frankie, then? How are mummy and daddy?" Harry heard Bellatrix cackle

with delight.

Squinting through the herd of black cloaks, Harry could just make out Neville, who

answered her.

"I'll tell them you said hi," he panted.

The dementors were sucking all they could from Neville, but like Sirius, he had one

very strong feeling to fight with; one that wasn't happy at all.

Forgetting he shouldn't be thinking, Harry awoke to the fact that some of the

dementors were breaking away from Bellatrix and Neville. Filling his mind with how

much Neville had progressed over the few years Harry had been fighting with him,

Harry plucked up everything he had left and yelled "Expecto Patronum!"

Prongs erupted from the end of Harry's wand, and raced after the many dementors,

chasing every one from the corridor. Prongs returned to Harry's side before dissolving

to nothing. Harry, dodging the curses still bouncing around the corridor, disapparated.

He knew this was Neville's battle.


End file.
